Her Guardian
by sweettea1
Summary: Optimus Prime has always stood by the humans and protected them from the horrors of the Decepticons' tyranny, for he did not want to see another race fall like his own. He has witnessed firsthand the fragility of a human, and he wants to ensure that he never has to see it again. But, he is not invincible - his demons will eventually come back to haunt him.
1. Chapter 1: This Is Jasper

**Author's Note: **Hello, and welcome to _Her Guardian_ - also known as my first shot at writing a multi Chapter story for TF: Prime. This idea has not left me alone ever since watching the preview for the upcoming TF4 movie, so I finally decided to give in and start typing the story out. And, well...this is the beginning. To anyone who was willing to click on this story and give it a chance, my thanks goes to you and I promise to give you a ride you will never forget (and since we're dealing with Transformers, I mean that literally).

_**Disclaimer: I, sweettea1, do not own the Transformers franchise whatsoever. However, any characters or scenes not seen in the Transformers: Prime TV show are my rightful creations and property.**_

I sincerely hope you enjoy, and please leave a review to let me know what you think of the story so far. Thank you :)

* * *

**Chapter I:**

**This Is Jasper**

"_If you tell people where to go, but not how to get there, you'll be amazed at the results." –George S. Patton_

* * *

"Jane?"

_The seat beneath her vibrated with the hum of the engine while the car blinker clicked rhythmically in the background. She found herself grasping the crayon box more tightly so they would not fall to the floor during the turn; however, she never lost her focus on the picture she was drawing. She wanted it to be perfect._

"Jane…"

_The car rolled forward slowly, the two adults in the front laughing over something she had not heard – not that she had any particular interest in their conversation. She was busy, and she would not be distracted. She plucked a grey crayon from the box, her mind imagining a great sword she had seen on the television once – before her mother promptly turned the power off, telling her she was too young for that violent, gory movie. But, despite that interruption, she still remembered the man who had been wielding said weapon: muscular, scarred, and dressed in equally grey armor, his head poking out of the array of metal that protected him, his helmet lost long ago. To her ten-year-old mind, that had been one of the coolest moments she had ever witnessed – and now, she wanted to recreate that moment._

"Jane, seriously. Snap out of it."

"Is everything alright back there?"

_No. Everything was ruined – and the saddest part was that everything moved too fast for her to fully comprehend what happened. The blare of a horn and the screech of tires rang in her ears before abruptly changing to the horrible crunch of metal. She might have screamed, but she was not entirely sure. She still clutched the box of crayons and notepad she had been using as the car spun and landed on its side with the terrifying cracks of shattered glass. Her head was pounding and she could hear the rush of her blood, the rapid pace of her heart, and the laborious breaths she took. Her left shoulder ached and a warm liquid trailed down her arm – though, she was in no position to see what the liquid was._

"Maybe I should just give her a thump on the head."

"Melanie, that's ridiculous. All you need to do is pull her earphones out. She probably can't hear you over her music."

"Or she's ignoring me. Or both."

"_Melanie_, please."

_She blinked away tears and smoke, coughing as she called out uselessly to whoever might hear her and come to her aid. She wanted to be free of this prison – she wanted someone to tell her everything was going to be okay. However, time passed slowly with no response, and she began to become impatient. She kicked her feet and swung her hands every which way, the crayons rattling and spilling out of the box in her right hand. Then…then there was shifting metal outside of her confinement, followed by a deep, rumbling voice, reminding her of the thunder that accompanied lightning in a bad storm. Unfortunately for her, she hated thunder; therefore, the voice only served to make her tears fall faster._

"What? She's done it before."

"Mel…"

"Okay, okay. Fine. I'll try the earphones."

_The seat belt tore, but she could not remember how or why. She could only recall collapsing onto a warm, metal surface, the rest of her crayons disappearing into the wreckage. She gasped, watching as the grey one fell into darkness while her body was lifted through the opposite door's broken window. The metal holding her aloft curled around her gently, as if trying to protect her from the jagged shards still attached to the door. Once she was finally removed from her prison, she felt the summer's night air brush against her skin, and she breathed deeply to clear her nose of the smoke that had choked her. _

_She twisted, hugging the notepad to her chest as she stared up at the face that peered down at her. A pair of deep azure eyes met her bright blue ones, power and compassion shining in the former and giving her a sense of belittlement. He – she could only assume that it was a he, judging from the faint, broad outline of his angular body – opened his mouth, about to say something to her—_

"Jane!"

Aforementioned teen jerked away from the sudden yell and rubbed her damaged ear. She blinked, slowly remembering where she was: She, her aunt, and her cousin Melanie were in Aunt Crystal's black SUV, driving toward—

"Thank God you finally heard me! Welcome to the land of the living." Melanie grinned as Jane shot her a heated glare, still rubbing her sensitive ear. "And more importantly, welcome to Jasper, Nevada, cuz."

Jane blinked again, finally letting her hand drop back to her side as she glanced out the tinted windows. The beginning of a town began to show as the SUV passed by the first few buildings. She tried to read the signs that tilted said buildings, but she could only catch a few. Not that she needed to know their names right then and there – she was going to be living here, so she would have plenty of time to recognize such places. Besides, it was hardly a comparison to the clustered streets of Sparks, Nevada.

She caught her breath as she heard her aunt flip on the blinker, releasing it only when they had safely made their turn onto another street. Houses lined either side of the dark asphalt, most of them one-story with the occasional two-story towering over its neighbors. She pursed her lips, noticing the lack of green lawns in front of the homes – and it served as a solid reminder that she was, indeed, living in a desert.

"Sandy," she murmured, removing her other earphone and coiling the cord around her phone.

"No kidding," Melanie remarked beside her, admiring one of the two-story homes painted a stark white. "What were you expecting? A lush forest?"

"Las Vegas would have been great, actually."

"Yeah, well. That's in the desert, too, genius."

"I _know_ that. I was just saying—"

"And here we are, girls!" Aunt Crystal exclaimed, successfully interrupting their mocking argument.

Both teens leaned forward and gazed out the front windshield to stare at the long, one-story house. It mixed well with the surrounding homes, its tan color nearly camouflaging it with Jasper's sandy plain. A stray, characteristic cactus stood tall and proud at one corner of the house, its long needles visible even from their position.

A horn honked behind them and Jane whirled around, relieved to see that it was only her uncle, Rickey, and the moving truck he was driving. She rubbed her forearms, trying desperately to soothe the goose bumps that had risen there.

Her aunt gave them a brief smile, turned off the engine, and stepped out of the SUV, shouting something unintelligible to Rickey – something about disturbing the neighbors, perhaps?

Melanie waited for a moment before snapping her attention to Jane. "Hey, are you okay? You've been jumpy ever since we entered town – not to mention zoned out, too," she said, a hint of worry reflecting in her green irises. "Are you—"

"Having memories? Yeah, I am," Jane mumbled disappointedly, leaning back against the seat and crossing her arms over her chest. "I was hoping that getting away from Sparks would give me a clean slate. I mean...it's been _five_ years. I should be over it already."

Melanie frowned and placed a hand on her cousin's shoulder. "You lost your parents in that crash, cuz," she said quietly. "It's hard to forget something like that, and neither I nor my parents expect you to forget it just because we moved away from Sparks."

"But _I_ want to forget," she retorted. "This is a new place with new people. No more reminders, and no one thinking I'm crazy or a pitiful sight."

"No one thought you were crazy—"

"Come on you two!" Aunt Crystal called to them while Rickey opened the back of the truck and pulled out the ramp. "We have work to do!"

Jane released a sigh and unbuckled her seatbelt. Then, with a sad smile, she glanced up at her cousin. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, but…I guess it's something that I need to figure out for myself first. Let me get a feel for the place and get to know the people around here. Maybe it'll get better over time."

"Well that's a way to look at it." Melanie returned the smile briefly before murmuring seriously, "But if you need someone to talk to, just know I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Mel. Truly."

With a shared nod, they opened their respective doors and stepped out onto the driveway. Jane arched her back and twisted from side to side, her blue eyes observing the desert terrain and the neighboring houses. It was surprisingly quiet – at least, compared to Sparks' atmosphere – and Jane felt as if a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. No city lights, exhaust fumes, emergency sirens, loud music – it was peaceful, and she was thankful for the blatant change.

The rumble of a garage door drew her attention and she stared down the row of houses for the source. One house down, she saw the garage door of a home – similar to the design of her family's new place – roll up slowly, producing a sleek blue motorcycle and an accompanying dark-haired rider. The teenage boy wheeled his bike down the driveway, his helmet tucked under one arm, while his eyes glanced up and down the road. He paused once he spotted her.

She bit her lower lip, embarrassed that she had been caught staring. Therefore, in an act of recovery, she raised a hand and wave, shoulders tensing up suddenly. He blinked, hesitating, before smiling kindly and returning the wave. He then proceeded to pull on his helmet and swing his leg over his motorcycle, the vehicle revving its engine as soon as he sat down.

Jane watched him disappear down the road, the bike humming in her ears the entire way.

"Well, he seemed nice," her aunt remarked next to her, making Jane jump in surprise. She turned to face Aunt Crystal and glanced down at the box labeled 'DISHES' she was carrying.

"You don't even know him yet. Heck, you don't even have a name." She strode to the SUV and opened the back door, hefting a box that had her name scribbled on all sides. "He could be a street racer or something for all we know."

Aunt Crystal rolled her eyes, but Melanie was the one to speak up. "Jane, this is Jasper. He's probably the sweet hometown boy, not the crazy psychopath." She paused, hands hovering over a suitcase. "Uh, who are we talking about again?"

"The neighbor with the blue motorcycle."

Melanie perked up. "Did you say _motorcycle_?"

"One you're not riding, young lady!" Rickey bellowed from somewhere in the truck, making Melanie pout and Jane burst out in laughter.

* * *

It was late afternoon when the moving truck was finally unloaded and everything was in the new house. True, boxes and luggage still needed to be unpacked, furniture needed to be moved, and walls needed to be painted, but the truck was no longer needed.

Jane accompanied Uncle Rickey outside, heading for the SUV while Rickey walked toward the truck.

Rickey suddenly ruffled Jane's short, brown hair. "Your aunt and I will be back soon, kiddo. Gotta get this hunk of metal off our hands."

"Do you have a vendetta against anything with wheels, uncle? Because…you're pretty abusive to them."

He laughed a hearty laugh, clapping her on the shoulder. A lopsided smile lighted her own features, her uncle's jovial mood easily contagious. She could not help but wonder if the neighbors would be irritated with her boisterous uncle, or if they would share his simple joy – much like herself at that moment. "A vendetta seems a bit much, kiddo. But I wouldn't say I have the best relationship with them," he remarked once he quieted down. "Ever since my first car, I have had problems with them. Flat tires, stuttering engines, radios full of static...I even had a side mirror knocked clean off."

"I know. You told Mel and me a hundred times about that…_incident_. That's also the reason why Aunt Crystal was worried about you driving the truck with all her valuables in it," Jane said, combing her hair back and out of her face. "I just hope I don't end up like you, with cars that have a mind of their own. No offense, Uncle."

He waved and hand, coming to a stop. "None taken. I hope you have better luck, too." He patted the side of the truck. "Your aunt and I will be back before you know it. And you listen to your cousin, because she's going to be in charge while we're gone. Unless, of course, she tries to hop on a motorcycle – then you're in charge."

Jane grinned broadly at that and stood a little straighter. "You can count on me, sir," she said, giving a two-finger salute. Rickey chuckled, reaching forward to ruffle her hair again, but she dodged. "Nope, not happening. I just fixed it after the first time."

She paused for a moment, staring up at her towering uncle, before quickly stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. He made a slight '_oomph_' sound, but did not hesitate to return the favor and encircle his lanky arms around her shoulders.

"Be careful, please?" Jane mumbled against his chest, her vision filled with the plaid print of his flannel shirt. She loved her uncle, for he much-too-easily slid into the fatherly position she oftentimes missed. And to be reminded of his rather ludicrous experiences with past vehicles sent shivers down her spine and filled her ears with the sound of crunching metal – _horrific crunching metal_.

Rickey gently pushed her away to arms length, smiling warmly – yet sadly – down at her. "I always try to be, kiddo. Besides, this hunk of metal hasn't given me any problems yet. I doubt she will now, or she'll face the fury of your aunt."

"'She'?" Jane giggled, the tension she had had since they arrived slowly dissipating. "Giving the 'hunk of metal' a gender now?"

"A man always calls his ride a 'she.' Laws of nature, Jane. Can't change them." He shrugged.

"Whatever you say, uncle," she replied, shaking her head. "Love you."

"Love you, too, kiddo," he said, squeezing her shoulders before releasing her from his grip.

She strode over to her aunt's black SUV, opening the side door and reaching for the backpack she had accidently forgotten – mostly because she had been too interested in the boy and his motorcycle. She grabbed a strap, dragged it across the floor, and slung it over her shoulder, cringing at the rumple of paper, clatter of pencils, and thumps of tubes that emitted from the bag. It was her art supplies, and she knew that the simple action should not have damaged anything; however, she still hated the noises that came from inside, imagining a disorganized mess once she unzipped it.

Shutting the door solidly, she slipped her arm through the other strap and adjusted it on her shoulders. Faintly, she could hear the front door of the house open and close. She looked up just in time to see her aunt come striding down the driveway, rummaging through her purse (undoubtedly in search of her keys). Melanie followed after her, but stopped short of the SUV and stared at the moving truck with a flat expression.

"Hey, dad! Make sure you don't knock a mirror off this one, too," she warned, her tone serious but a smirk beginning to pull at her lips. Jane laughed inwardly at the irony of the comment.

Rickey saluted – much like Jane did moments before – and trotted to the driver's side door.

"You two behave. We shouldn't be gone more than an hour." Aunt Crystal shook her head, finally producing her keys. "The only downside to this town is that they don't have a place close to return this truck."

Melanie took a couple steps forward and wrapped an arm around Jane's shoulders. "Trust me: we'll have a _blast_."

"Really? Then why do you sound so sarcastic?" Jane asked, giving her cousin a sidelong glance.

Her reply was an elbow to the ribs.

Aunt Crystal hummed. "Right. Well, I guess we're off then. Love you!"

"Love you, aunty."

"Love you, too, mom."

Both girls watched as the adults started their vehicles and drove down the empty street, dust trailing in their wake. Jane pursed her lips, hooking her thumbs in the straps of her backpack while Melanie removed her arm from her shoulders. She knew, without asking, that they were thinking along the same lines: they had an unfinished house all to themselves.

Jane turned on her heels to face her cousin. "So…should we…I don't know. Paint, or something?"

Melanie huffed. "Mom may have the paint, but I don't know what she wants. You know how she is. She comes, looks at the house, gets an image in her mind, and then keeps it to herself." She frowned, folding her arms. "She's good at keeping a secret. No wonder she's an expert with surprise parties…"

Jane chuckled, shifting her weight. "Well, I know what I want for _my_ room. We could start there."

"Fine. We'll do it together. One room at a time." She smiled mischievously. "Mine first though."

"Wait…_what?_"

But Melanie was already jogging back into the house, her snickers echoing in Jane's ears.

_What a wonderful start to a move-in_, Jane grumbled to herself, despite the smile that tugged at her lips. Honestly, it was hard to be mad at her cousin, despite how well she fit the role of an annoying older sister.

She had barely taken a step toward the house when she heard the rumble of an engine behind her. She whirled around, eyebrows shooting up once she saw a familiar blue motorcycle slow to a stop at the end of her driveway. The boy living one house down from her, she easily remembered.

He placed a foot on the ground and pulled his helmet off, revealing bushy black hair and brown eyes.

Jane blinked a few times in surprise before finally regaining control of her wits and giving the boy a half-wave. "Uh…hi?"

"Oh…um…" It was as if he had not expected her to say anything to him. "Hi. I'm Jack. Jack Darby."

Jane smiled at his slight stutter, wondering if he was always this nervous around people. From appearance alone – especially with his sharp and flashy motorcycle – he did not seem to be the shy type. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Jack Darby. I'm Jane Malone – but just Jane would be fine."

"Uh, right. Same here. Just Jack." Her smile broadened at his hastily added comment, but she did not dare laugh. She did not want him more flustered than he already was. "I saw the uh, truck earlier. I'm guessing you're moving in?"

She nodded. "Your guess would be correct. My family and I came from Sparks." She looked up and down the road, scratching the back of her head. "Peaceful place, Jasper is."

He snorted quietly at that. "That's a nice way to put it."

"Hey, I haven't had a chance to explore yet. It might surprise—"

"Jane! Are you coming?" Melanie hollered from the front door, oblivious to the conversation taking place outside. "Don't be a poor sport just because you failed to call dibs first!"

"Right…" Jane mumbled. She turned back to Jack. "And that would be my cousin calling." She started to back up. "I guess I'll see you around, Jack? Or at school? Or something like that?"

"Well I don't plan on leaving Jasper anytime soon," he said. "Plus, I'm one door down from you. I'll be hard to miss."

"You make a good point," she admitted. Then, waving, she retreated toward the door where he cousin stood waiting.

"Who was that?" Melanie asked, peering over Jane's shoulder.

"Jack," Jane answered. And, upon seeing the baffled look on her cousin's face, she supplied, "The guy I was talking about earlier. The one with motorcycle…"

"Oh!"

"Bet you wish you stayed out there a bit longer now, huh?" She smirked at her cousin's scowl, squeezing past her and moving toward the room to be painted. "Your room first, right?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

Melanie closed the door, but not before Jane caught the hum of Jack's motorcycle rolling down the road to his own house. However, she never heard the feminine voice that emitted from said bike.


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

**Author's Note: ** Welcome back! First of all, I want to give a big thanks to the readers who followed and favorite this story, and a special thanks to **Miz Lil Pitbull**, **Swiftpaw2012**, **1Seventeen7**, and **TriGemini Prime** for leaving their wonderful reviews. The support is already amazing :)

So as you will see toward the end of this Chapter, my story begins roughly around the episode "_Crisscross_." And it may also be noted that Jane will not be actively involved in the next few episodes, given that she just arrived in Jasper and she still has no idea about either the 'Bots or 'Cons. Have patience: she will begin to join the flow of the show soon enough. She just needs to discover some things for herself first.

On that note, I hope you all enjoy. Leave a review to let me know what you think; _and_, since I am unaccustomed to writing the TFP characters, please let me know if any of them are acting 'wrong'. Thank you!

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers: Prime whatsoever. However, any characters or scenes not seen in the TV show are rightfully my creations.**_

* * *

**Chapter II:**

**Introductions**

"_I'm just a believer that things will get better; Some can take it or leave it, But I don't wanna let it go." –American Authors, "Believer"_

* * *

Jane sat on the floor, back reclining against the side of her bed. In her lap sat her sketchpad, illuminated by the desk's lamp as she moved her pencil across the paper. Her eyes never left her work, focused intently on each new line she traced and every patch of shading she added, always mindful of the faint outline she had sketched beforehand.

Art was Jane's outlet. Sometimes she felt the urge to recreate a nightmare on paper to realize just how childish the dream really was; and other times, she simply enjoyed copying a scene that lifted her heart. She found it amazing how she could bend reality with a swoop of a paintbrush, or make a sunset glow with the perfect blend of pastels, or capture the haunting glare of a tiger with the tip of her pencil. And the triumph of finally finishing an image? After bringing it to life with color and shading and careful lines? That was even better.

However, there were times when she despised the practice – and those times came rarely, resulting mainly from unwelcomed memories. Sparks, Nevada, held such memories that Jane had often vented through art – _still_ vented through art – her worst projects spawning from the car crash.

She remembered that night in brief spurts; and, if she was unlucky enough, she could recall full segments of what happened, the details sharp and clear as if she had actually gone back in time to relive the experience. Aunt Crystal suggested she might have some mild amnesia, or that she had been too young to completely remember everything; Rickey claimed that such a crash would happen too fast for _anyone_ to keep track of; and Melanie said that there was probably a part of her mind that refused to fully resurface the memories. Whichever belief was true – whichever one kept her from remembering – did not stop her from drawing her flashes when they came; and the episode she had on move-in day would be treated no differently.

She started with the warrior she had been coloring before the accident, but the idea was quickly scrapped and tossed in the trash bin. She then attempted to draw her parents, laughing in the front seats; but once again, she abandoned the attempt, disappointed with the outcome of their faces – flat and unrecognizable. Now, she was working on her last recollection: the being who pulled her from the wreckage.

Honestly, she knew no defining features, other than the hard angles that outlined him and the rich blue of his eyes. She had the rough sketch, but the rest was simply dark shadows. That night had not been kind by any means, not even having the decency to shed a single sliver of moonlight on her supposed rescuer. It was disheartening to say the least, but it was the only success she had had so far. Her inner fire burned brighter the further she came along, telling her she would _not_ give up this time – that she _needed _some peace of mind, even if that meant finishing this drawing.

The mattress bounced behind her, alerting her to a new presence and breaking her concentration. Calmly, Jane glanced over her shoulder and came face-to-face with her cousin.

Melanie, draped across Jane's bed and chin resting on folded arms, stared down at Jane's sketchpad curiously. A minute passed before she decided to speak. "Alright, I give up. What _are_ you working on?" she asked, pulling her hair to her right shoulder so she could see properly.

Jane hesitated. She had no desire to worry her cousin further with her troubles, or to tell her that she was drawing the very thing that only _she_ witnessed that night. Melanie would probably scold her for purposely digging up dark thoughts after only four days in Jasper. "Uh…I'm not sure. Just letting my imagination run wild." Jane shrugged. It was partly true. She did not know _exactly_ what she was creating.

Melanie huffed lightly. "Nice try, cuz. If you're organized with _anything_, it's this type of stuff." She gestured at the sketchbook for clarification. "You're seriously not going to tell me what you're drawing?"

Jane bit her lip. "It's personal, okay? I just want to get it off my mind and be done with it. Alright?" She glanced up at her cousin, her expression pleading.

Melanie glared, then softened. "I hate it when you look at me like that…"

Jane smiled.

"Fine. Keep it to yourself. Too much heavy shading for my taste anyway."

"Thanks, Mel."

"Yeah, sure. No problem." Melanie rolled onto her back, interlocking her fingers and placing them on her stomach. Jane watched her for a moment, noticing how her eyes followed the circular path of the ceiling fan's blades, before turning back to her sketchbook and continuing where she left off. Silence reigned for a long time, the only sounds coming from the scratch of Jane's pencil and the distant conversation between her aunt and uncle echoing from the kitchen.

Jane had just begun tracing the hard shapes that made up the broad shoulders of her sketch when the bed bounced again. Out of the corner of her eye, Jane saw Melanie walk around the end of the bed and toward the window. Upon reaching said window, she parted the curtains and peeked through the blinds, squinting as she did so.

Jane sighed. "What are you looking at?" she asked, not halting her hand.

"I heard something," her cousin mumbled. She swiveled her head, looking to the right. "Didn't you?"

"No," Jane replied simply. "What did it sound like?"

"Well if I knew that, then I wouldn't have to look."

"Touché."

Jane paused, curious now as she, too, listened for the mysterious sound. Everything was still, and Jane heard nothing out of the ordinary. Her cousin also seemed to realize that the noise would not come back, and she stepped away from the window and closed the curtains again. She then sat down next to Jane and quietly watched as Jane refocused on her task.

But it was hard to ignore her cousin sitting there, watching, waiting, almost as if she _expected_ something. Jane was caught between being annoyed with her cousin and being genuinely concerned.

She briefly glanced in Melanie's direction. "Are you alright, Mel? Something bothering you?"

Melanie thought for a moment. "Do you miss Sparks?"

Jane blinked in utter surprise, stopping abruptly and staring at her cousin, eyebrows soaring upwards. She wanted to speak, but the words were stuck in her throat. She swallowed. "I…guess. I mean, yeah, I miss a few things, but…" She tensed, eyes darting to her sketch. She resisted the urge to rip it in half.

Melanie suddenly shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Not after you told me you were struggling with…the past."

Jane felt a worm of guilt in her heart, and she quickly waved aside the apology. "No, it's okay. I mean, it's my hometown, after all. Of course I'm going to miss it," she said, meeting her cousin's gaze. "But my feelings toward Sparks is complicated, too. There are things I hated about that place and I'm glad I left it behind – well, _most_ of it behind."

Melanie nodded dully. "Yeah. I can understand that. To a point." She rubbed her shoulder self-consciously. "I just remember the good times. I hated moving from Wisconsin at first, but…Sparks grew on me. I made friends, visited the shops every weekend, got my driver's license, moved closer to you."

"I thought you said I was obnoxious as a kid," Jane remarked, poking her cousin with the eraser of her pencil accusingly.

"You were!" Melanie chuckled weakly. "But you mellowed out as you got older – at least to the point that I could tolerate you. And when you had to start living with my parents and me, it was like having a little sister around. Actually, that's _exactly_ what it felt like, and I enjoyed it."

Jane studied Melanie, asking cautiously, "Are you trying to butter me up or something? 'Cause it may or may not be working."

"No, no. I'm being serious. Grudgingly." Melanie received the light punch on her arm with a grin. "But the point is that I _like_ Jasper, but I also miss Sparks and I'm…well, I guess I'm homesick to put it simply. I didn't mean to upset you."

"And you didn't," Jane assured. Then, sliding the sketchbook off her lap and dropping the pencil, she wrapped an arm around her cousin's shoulders and gave a tight squeeze. "I'm here for you, too, Mel. Don't worry."

Melanie returned the gesture. "I know. That's why I said I got your back: because you have mine."

There was a long pause. The ceiling fan rocked, the blinds rattled from the gusts of aforementioned fan, the conversation in the kitchen swelled into laughter, the bed creaked as Jane relaxed against it – every little noise seemed to be amplified by the silence between them, making it harder not to fidget.

Melanie must have felt the same.

"…Well this awkward," she commented, eyes drifting around the room. Jane burst into giggles, retracting her arm at the same time as her cousin did. Melanie chuckled too as she stood. "I guess I'm going to take a shower. Now that the house is done, maybe I can finally clear my head of that _awful_ fresh paint smell." She shuddered, scrunching up her nose.

"You do that," Jane said, reclaiming her sketchpad and pencil. "I want to finish this before I go to bed."

Melanie furrowed her brow. "Speaking of sleep, what time is it?"

Jane lifted her arm and glanced at her wristwatch. "Nine forty-eight," she read off the green digital numbers.

There was a resounding _smack_ as Melanie's palm met her forehead. "Oi! And we've got school tomorrow. Time flies, I guess."

"I guess so." Jane paused, glancing over her shoulder. "And since when do you say 'oi'?"

"Since five seconds ago. 'Night, cuz!"

"'Night." Jane watched as her cousin left her room, pulling the door shut behind her with a soft _click_. She stared at the stark white door, lost in thought, before shifting into a more comfortable position. She lifted her knees up and balanced her sketchpad on her thighs, pencil tip leaving the shoulders she had been detailing and moving to the head. Lines were added, dimension was granted, and shadows were permitted until she was finally left with two small spaces for the eyes – and that was where she stopped.

Human eyes were varied in shape and color, but they were equal in simple design, having irises and pupils and similar mechanics. However, when she thought of the azure eyes that had stared down at her that night, she remembered neither of those features. She did not see the line between blue irises and the white of an eyeball, and she certainly saw no dark circle to serve as a pupil. They had been glowing orbs, like a light bulb had been switched on behind them.

It struck her hard to realize that, perhaps, maybe whoever saved her was not human at all.

She lowered her legs, thinking long and hard. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories of that night to come back – to bring back the image of her rescuer. It was blurred at best, and still dark as ever, but she remembered the glow of his eyes, the sharp angles of his body, and the height at which he stood, making her feel small and helpless. Had he been _that_ tall? No, surely her ten-year-old mind had made an exaggeration. Tall to her back then could have been the height of a normal basketball player. But then what was the shifting metal she heard beforehand? And the metal surface that had pulled her out of the wreckage? That was no human hand lifting her up.

She felt stupid. No, she felt like an _idiot_. What exactly had she been picturing since she started this sketch? A human or an unknown being? A human or a child's wild imagination?

She tore the page out of the sketchbook and crumpled it in her hands. Her only outlet had failed her, and her inner fire had been doused. Now she was even more stressed than when she started this mission to find some peace.

Standing, she replaced her sketchbook in the top drawer of her desk and dumped the pencil in the pencil-holder while the crumpled paper she held was tossed into the trash. "Maybe I was crazy," she murmured.

A soft noise at her window made her jump. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard, only much more subtle. Padding over to the window, she pulled back the curtains and opened the blinds. There was nothing to be seen on the dark, sandy terrain outside; however, when a brief gust of wind whistled past, the sound reached her ears again. Jane lowered her eyes and noticed one of the needles on the cactus just outside her window glided down the glass whenever the wind blew hard enough, producing the chilling screech.

Jane sighed, smiling slightly. So that was what her cousin heard.

* * *

Next morning, Jane found herself sitting in the back seat of Aunt Crystal's SUV, parked outside of Jasper's school. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing the small strands away from her forehead, while her eyes stared up the front steps. It was hard to ignore the small part of her that dreaded to step out of the vehicle, but her eagerness was much more compelling. Therefore, she only had a slight hesitation before propping open the door and hopping down onto the sidewalk.

Melanie followed a moment later, exiting from the passenger side door and weaving around the front of the SUV to stand beside her. Jane gave her a tight smile, which Melanie returned easily and confidently.

Uncle Rickey rolled down the window. "I'll see you two when I get home tonight. Behave, pay attention, and pray that the principle doesn't call me on the first day." The humorous glint in Rickey's eyes betrayed all seriousness he initially had, creating a genuine grin on Jane's face.

"No problem, uncle. I'll keep Mel in line until then." Jane patted the side of the SUV before hooking her thumbs around the straps of her backpack.

Melanie glared at her briefly before smiling sweetly at Rickey. "Please, dad. You know I'm an _angel_. Right?"

Rickey chuckled. "Well, as long as you make it home safely and _not_ on the back of a motorcycle, then I suppose so."

Melanie raised her hands defensively. "I've gotten over that thing, I swear! Besides, Jack is _Jane's_ friend. I've only spoken to him once, and that was to say 'hi'."

"And I've only spoken to him once, too! Yeah, sure, I've also said 'hi' a few times, but I don't know him that well," Jane retorted. Melanie just shrugged.

With an amused expression, Rickey shook his head; but when he glanced at his watch, the corner of his lips dropped into a frown. "I have to go. I love you both. Stay out of trouble." He pointed a finger at both of them warily.

"We love you, too, uncle," Jane replied, giving a brief salute as Rickey rolled up the window and pulled away from the curb. She watched her uncle drive down the road for a few seconds before turning on her heel to face the school building. Melanie was already trudging up the steps, her bright green eyes set on the front doors and her backpack jostling with every step she took. Jane shuffled forward and placed her foot on the first step, intending to follow her cousin; however, before she could push herself up and forward, a flash of movement caught her eye.

Peeking back over her shoulder, she was surprised to see Jack coming to a stop in front of the school – mostly because he was riding a _bicycle_ rather than the motorcycle she, Rickey, and Melanie had just been discussing. But why? Was his motorcycle in the shop? Had it been damaged? Surely he had not been involved in a _wreck_.

Goosebumps prickled her skin at the thought. Perhaps she should make sure everything was alright – to settle her nerves and to check on Jack. Therefore, she removed her foot from the step and waved to her cousin – who had paused at the top of the staircase – to go ahead without her. Melanie stared at her, confused, until she saw the dark-headed boy hopping off his bike and wheeling it toward the bike rack. She then nodded, waved, and disappeared inside the school.

Jane sucked in a breath and strode over to aforementioned bike rack, hands wrapped around the straps of her backpack tightly. "Hey, Jack," she greeted, giving the boy a good start. She frowned, wincing. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"No, I….just didn't see you there," Jack said, attempting to act nonchalant. "It's uh…good to see you again, Jane. How's the move-in coming along?"

Jane blinked, releasing the tension in her shoulders. At least he was the same as the last time they spoke. "Great. Actually, I'd say the house is finished. My aunt is finicky about the details, though." She shifted her weight to left foot. "What about you?"

"Me? Everything's been great."

Jane nodded slowly, hesitating as she stared at Jack's bicycle. Finally, she asked, "What happened to your bike?"

Jack paused, following her gaze to his bicycle. "What do you mean?"

Jane shook her head. "No, I mean you motorcycle," she rephrased, cheeks heating in embarrassment. "Did…something happen?"

His bafflement suddenly turned to understanding, and he, too, shook his head. "No, nothing happened. I'm just…_grounded_ from it, that's all."

"Oh!" Jane was relieved to hear that Jack had not been in an accident, but she also felt clamant. He was grounded, and she was certain that that was an embarrassment he would have rather kept to himself. She scratched the back of her head, shrinking slightly. "I didn't know—I mean, of course I wouldn't know. I was just worried something had _happened_, you know. Like a wreck or something. And if that was the case, I wanted to make sure _you_ were okay and—I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Jack broke into a grin. "A little, yeah."

"Oh," she repeated lamely. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine, really. I appreciate the concern."

There was a few moments of awkward silence that followed, making Jane fidget uncomfortably. If she was not as embarrassed as she was, she might have laughed at her own babbling; however, that was the farthest intention she had on her mind right then. Laughing would make it worse.

Suddenly – and thankfully – Jack gestured toward the school. "We should probably get in there before the bell rings. Don't want to be late on your first day," he commented, jerking Jane back into action.

"Right," she agreed, taking notice to the decrease in traffic into said building. "And to think I promised my uncle I wouldn't get into trouble." She retreated to the stairs before Jack could provide a response, heaving a sigh now that her back was turned. She felt like an idiot, and she had no doubts that she _acted_ like one, too.

The deep rumble of an engine reached her ears, accompanied by a girl's voice; however, she did not bother to look back. She could only guess that it belonged to a student who had arrived just in time. But, before she could open the door for herself and Jack – who was trailing right behind her – the feminine voice she had heard called after them – or, at least, she called for _Jack_. She did not even notice Jane standing there.

"_Dude!_ Where's Arcee?"

"_Miko!_"

Jane stared at the girl who had just jogged up the steps to meet Jack – Miko, as he had called her. She was no taller than herself, just built with a smaller frame, and sporting pink and black hair tied back into two pigtails. Her light brown eyes darted around Jack, realization dawning in her gaze.

"Whoops," she mumbled.

"'Arcee'?" Jane repeated, raising a humorous eyebrow. "Is she talking about your motorcycle?"

"No," Jack defended, at the same time as Miko hastily confirmed, "Yes."

Jane switched her gaze between the two, her eyebrow inching higher on her forehead. "Well? Which one is it?"

Jack shared an annoyed glance with Miko before admitting dejectedly, "Yes…"

Jane shrugged. "Okay. If you makes feel any better, I think Arcee is a cool name." She nodded toward Miko. "Who's your friend?"

Jack sighed exasperatedly. "Miko…"

Jane had to smile. Today was certainly going to be interesting.


End file.
